by Loree Lough
He watched her take a long, slow sip of tea. Odd how uncomfortable she seemed to be with his attitude, especially considering that she was part of the reason for it.
“Henry made me a roast beef sandwich and chicken noodle soup for lunch.”
Parker sat across from her, waiting for her to add that Hank had baked the roast and cooked the soup from scratch. He was mildly surprised when, instead, she announced that a guest would be checking in tonight.
“What?” he said around a bite of pie. “But didn’t you say this morning that every room was booked?”
“I did, and we are. Dr. Leonard was the last person to reserve a room.”
“Dr. Leonard?”
She nodded.
“Not Dr. Hollace Leonard?”
“Yes.” She frowned slightly. “Why?”
In her last e-mail, the good doctor hadn’t said a word about renting a room at Coastal Cottage. Not that she owed Parker any explanations. She’d promised to pay her own way while in Folly Beach if he’d give her a tour of nearby Charleston. Not his favorite way to spend a day, but a penny saved and all that.
“I get it,” Maude said. “You must have read the guest registry. That’s how you know her name.”
Since his mother’s surgery, he had been checking the book daily, to make sure that every room was in tip-top shape before the guests checked in. But with his early-morning meeting and the Sullivans’ excursion—and the mate’s cancellation—he hadn’t had time today. “Dr. Leonard is the woman who’s coming to town to help me with the book, remember?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, of course.”
She was wearing that “I know something you don’t know” expression, but Parker wasn’t in the mood to play “Guess What?” He speared a cherry and popped it into his mouth.
“She told me that, God willing, she’d arrive by three. You know, to give herself plenty of time to settle in and rest up.”
Makes sense, he thought, given her age. Dr. Leonard had racked up a long list of credentials in her lifetime. Apparently she wasn’t married, based on the fact that she could pick up and spend the entire summer in Folly Beach all by herself. A grandmotherly widow, perhaps. Hopefully one with both orthopedic shoes planted solidly on terra firma. He couldn’t have chosen a better partner to get his notes into publishable shape if he’d ordered her from a catalog.
Maude glanced at the clock above the door. “She’s late.”
Only by three hours, Parker thought as his wristwatch beeped. “What do you bet that our dear Dr. Leonard is blond.” Or used to be, before her hair turned gray.
Chuckling, Maude waved his comment away. Just as well, because he didn’t much feel like reliving the crazy day that included Kate Sullivan and the inattentive driver of the little red convertible.
“I’m putting her in the Captain’s room.”
Maude’s favorite movie was The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, and the only thing stopping her from calling the B&B Gull Cottage was the five-foot wooden medallion her grandfather had carved and hung beneath the scrolled eaves. She’d done the next best thing, though, by naming every guest room after its characters. Despite the fact that the “Captain Dan” suite cost twice as much to rent as the other rooms, it had always been a guest favorite. In addition to the best view of the back gardens and the beach, the space included a kitchenette, a bright and airy bathroom, and French doors leading to a covered balcony. Under the right conditions, the good doctor might even catch a glimpse of the loggerheads from up there.
“Good choice,” he said, slicing into the apple pie. He’d naturally assumed that Dr. Leonard would rent a room at one of the name-brand hotels farther up the beach. Without even trying hard, Parker could name a half-dozen perks of having his writing partner so near.
Partner. If he had any writing talent at all, Parker wouldn’t have needed the help of someone like Dr. Leonard. Oh, he’d played around with a blog that described his charter services and the turtles and lighthouse projects, and though “Sea Maverick” had earned a respectable following, it had only inspired a couple hundred comments by the time a New York editor contacted him. Write a book about Folly Beach, she’d said, and the company would split the profits between his two pet projects. Hank had calmed his “What have I done to myself?” fears by suggesting that he hire a pro to help with the writing. An Internet search led Parker to Dr. Hollace Leonard, whose fee was more than reasonable, despite her proviso that he show her around Charleston.
He shoved their pie plates and silverware into the dishwasher. “Has Dr. Leonard called, at least, to explain why she’s so late?”
As if on cue the phone rang, startling Maude so badly that she nearly upended her ice-filled glass. “Goodness, I need to lower the volume on that ringer!”
He picked up the magazine she’d dropped. “Can’t do that, because then you’d never hear it from the parlor or the—” He silenced the second ring by grabbing the receiver. “Coastal Cottage…”
“Um, hello? I’m, ah, my name is Dr. Leonard, and I, um…”
She sure didn’t sound like any grandma he’d ever met.
“…I’m afraid I got a little lost. Well, actually, very lost, to be truthful. Three times.” Her voice brightened a degree when she added, “But I’m here in Folly Beach, finally, thank the good Lord, at a convenience store on Center Street.”
She sounded surprisingly upbeat for a woman her age, especially after having driven all the way from Baltimore. It was looking more and more like he’d made the right decision, hiring her. “Just hang a left out of the parking lot,” he told her, “then make the next left and follow the road to the last house on the block. There’s a sign out front. You can’t miss it. I’ll wait for you on the porch so I can help you with your bags.”
“Oh, wow, you’re the best,” she all but sang. “See you soon!”
Parker hung up and headed for the door. “Soon as we get her settled in,” he told his mom, “I’ll change your bandages.”
“You’re a good son.”
“If I am, it’s because you’re the best mom on bandaged feet.” Smiling, he grabbed his cap and headed outside, where he paced the length of the porch and wondered if God counted half truths as full-blown lies. But that wasn’t fair, and he knew it. Maude had done her best, given the circumstances, scrimping and saving to buy the cottage from her grandparents and then putting in all sorts of odd hours so she’d never miss one of his football or baseball games. What sort of self-centered jerk had he become, that her hard work and sacrifices were still shadowed by his belief that she’d driven his father away?
A Swainson’s hawk shrieked overhead, and Parker stopped pacing long enough to follow its flight path. As it disappeared into a thicket, Parker couldn’t help but pity the rabbit or chipmunk that had lured the stunning bird from its roost. Sometimes he envied anything with wings—how incredible would it be to float up there, above it all?
Shrugging, Parker leaned on a support post as a blue sedan slowed and made a U-turn. Thirty minutes later, a white box truck teetered and ground its gears in the driveway before aiming its big, square nose in the opposite direction. His patience frayed, Parker stomped inside. “Of all the rude, inconsiderate—” Did Dr. Leonard think her time was worth more than his simply because she had a string of fancy initials behind her name? If so, it was going to be a long, hard summer. He grabbed the shoe box of bandages and ointments that his mother kept in the powder-room linen closet and then took a moment to gather his self-control.
“Ready for your cleanup?” he asked, scrubbing his hands before kneeling at her feet. Maude’s grateful smile warmed his heart, and when she pressed a palm to his cheek, he turned his face and gently kissed it.
“I take it Dr. Leonard didn’t show up?”
“No,” he all but growled. Gentling his voice, Parker added, “No sense in making you wait for the self-centered old bat.”
“Now, now. Maybe she has a good excuse for being late.”
“And maybe you’re too sweet
and forgiving for your own good.”
But that was hardly a fair statement, and he knew it. A wide gullible streak was one of her more lovable flaws, and since he’d inherited most of her flaws, how could he help but forgive them?
Chapter Two
If it wouldn’t break her father’s heart, Holly might just change her last name to Murphy, because then, at least, she could blame Murphy’s Law when things like this happened.
Already three hours late, she certainly hadn’t needed a flat in the convenience-store parking lot. Not that changing a tire scared her, with the numerous opportunities her bad luck had provided. Like the day she’d backed over a soda bottle, and the afternoon she’d rammed a curb to avoid hitting a squirrel. And what about the time a belt buckle had become wedged in the treads, when her dad had stood, hands in his pockets and muttering, as he tried to figure out how she’d managed such a feat.
No, the prospect of getting the old tire off and the spare in its place didn’t faze her. The impression she’d make on her boss-for-the-summer, showing up with grease-stained hands and three and a half hours late? That fazed her, big-time! Surely God had a lesson in mind in all this, but at the moment, Holly had no idea what it might be.
Wiping grimy palms on a towel from the car’s trunk, she remembered a recent sermon: “Patience is earned through testing, by trial and tribulation,” Pastor Clemens had teased the congregants, “so it makes more sense to pray for endurance!” Okay, Lord, so help me endure the rest of this day, she prayed, grinning as she added, without another awkward event!
The COASTAL COTTAGE sign came into view, and she read it as an answered prayer. She scanned the porch, looking for the man she’d talked with on the phone. He wasn’t there to help with her bags, but that didn’t surprise Holly. Nearly an hour had passed since he’d made the generous offer. Surely he had better and more important ways to spend his time than waiting for her.
She got out of the car slowly, taking in the cottage and its grounds. The fragrances from the red and yellow larkspur and the dancing spikes of yucca plants sailed to her on the late May breeze. Pale yellow-green with white trim, the tidy house boasted a two-story turret and a wide, covered front porch. She could almost picture herself in one of the big white rockers on the second-floor balcony, sipping her morning coffee and watching the birds soar overhead. Would the cottage have a matching porch out back, with a view of the ocean too?
“Careful, Hol,” she warned, “or you’ll end up changing your address. Again.”
After selling her Ocean City condo to move back to her hometown, she’d promised her mom she’d stay put for a while. Packing for her temporary assignment in South Carolina made move number six in a span of three years. So she couldn’t allow herself to fall in love with Folly Beach, because that would mean yet another move, this time to a house or apartment, and Holly didn’t think her mom’s pink-and-blue address book could survive another big X across Holly’s contact information!
Holding her breath, she climbed the steps and rapped on the wooden screen door. Maybe this place and everything about it only seemed like paradise. That sure would make it easier to go home in August.
When no one answered, she opened the door and cringed when it creaked. “Hello? Hellooo…”
In the hushed foyer, the blades of a ceiling fan whirled slowly overhead, and above the half-moon mahogany table pressed against sea-green wallpaper, a baseball cap hung from a row of matching pegs. Down the hall, the glow of a bright yellow kitchen beckoned, and Holly followed the braided rug.
“This shouldn’t take long,” said a hearty, masculine voice.
“I’m in no hurry,” a woman replied. “It isn’t as if I’m going anywhere in this condition.”
The condition, Holly noticed as she stepped into the arched doorway, was two white-bandaged feet, now propped upon the lap of a broad-shouldered man who knelt in front of her chair. As Holly opened her mouth to say hello, the woman shook her head and pressed a finger to her lips. Then, winking, she said, “Well, I’m sure Dr. Leonard will be here soon.”
His back was still to Holly when he gently rested the woman’s heels on the cushion of a nearby chair then stood to gather rolls of gauze and white tape. She noted that he had to duck to keep from bumping his head on the ceiling fan’s light fixture.
Stuffing the supplies into a black shoe box, he said, “Lucky for her, you taught me to respect the elderly, or she’d get a piece of my mind when she gets here.”
Holly met the woman’s eyes then pointed to herself and mouthed, “Elderly? Who, me?”
Grinning, the woman nodded.
“Better watch out,” Holly said, leaving the doorway. “Giving away pieces of your mind can be costly.”
Facing her, his dark eyes flashed as recognition dawned. And then she recognized him as Mr. Baseball Cap.
“You!” they said in unison.
The other woman looked from the handsome young man to Holly and back again. “You two have met?”
“Not exactly,” they said together.
“Well, seems to me you’re pretty like-minded…for strangers.”
For the next unbearable moment, the only sound in the room was the ticking tail of the black cat clock above the sink. “My apologies for arriving so late,” Holly said, breaking the silence. “I hope it didn’t inconvenience you in any way.”
“Not at all,” the woman said. “Sorry to hear you got lost, though. I hate being lost.”
“Oh, this was actually a really good trip. I only got lost three times.” She laughed and, extending a hand, added, “Hollace Leonard, but I hope you’ll call me Holly.”
“I’m Maude,” she said, shaking Holly’s hand, “and this is my son, Parker.”
He held out his hand, and as she shook it, Holly said, “Oh, brother. Talk about your weird coincidences, huh?”
A crooked smile brightened his handsome face. “Pleased to meet you too.”
If this wasn’t Murphy’s Law at work—again—she didn’t know what was.
This time Maude broke the silence. “Parker, would you mind showing the doctor to her room?”
He blinked several times before releasing her hand and then fixing his brown-eyed stare on the box of first-aid supplies still tucked under his arm.
“I can do it myself. There’s no need to go to all that bother,” Holly said. “I’ve already inconvenienced you more than enough. If you’ll just point me in the right direction, I’m sure I can find—”
“It’s no bother,” he interrupted. “Give me a sec to put this stuff away, and I’ll meet you out front.” Before Holly could thank him, he disappeared around the corner and then poked his head back into the room. “You won’t get lost, will you?”
Recalling the “more flies with honey” adage, she chose to ignore his sarcasm. She had only herself to blame for it, after all.
“Don’t worry,” Maude said once he was out of earshot, “he doesn’t always behave like a big ol’ grizzly.”
“That’s nice to know. But just to be safe, I’d better get moving.” Grinning, Holly held out her right arm and showed Maude the long, thin scar that ran from wrist to elbow. “Because I learned the hard way, while volunteering at the zoo, that even cute little cubs can draw blood… .”
* * * * *
Great, Parker thought, shoving the shoe box onto its shelf, just great. A long, hot summer working side by side with a self-interested, harebrained woman. He wondered how anyone that silly had earned a college degree, let alone a doctorate. Maybe her dad had alumni connections…or her mom’s relatives had donated big bucks to build a wing at her alma mater.
And maybe he wasn’t being fair. She had sounded sincere, apologizing for her late arrival and any trouble it might have caused. And those articles she’d written had been insightful and informative without being the least bit highfalutin. It wouldn’t kill him to give her the benefit of the doubt, because even he’d sat daydreaming behind the wheel a time or two. Distracted enough not to notice a
red light turn green—for that long? Not that he could recall, but then, the doctor was blond.
Speaking of which, he’d never seen hair of that particular shade before. It wasn’t quite goldenrod, certainly not cadmium… . The color of her too-big-for-her-face eyes wasn’t easily described, either. He’d added bluebells and cornflowers to a few of his land-scapes, but neither cerulean nor phthalo described her eyes. He had a feeling this would become one of those ridiculous and annoying things that would bug him until he got home, where he could check his assortment of acrylics and watercolors. And what about those Bambi-like eyelashes of hers? Were they the glue-on kind, or—
Get a grip, he warned. This was exactly the way things had started with Stephanie. He’d be better off finding the nearest lemming community and following them to the closest cliff than going through that again.
On his way outside, Parker dropped fresh ice cubes into Maude’s glass. “Soon as I get Little Miss Holly Folly settled in, I’ll help you into the parlor and set you up with a movie and some snacks.”
“Holly Folly?” Maude laughed. “Don’t let her hear you call her that. I can rent the ‘Captain Dan’ suite to the next tourist who needs a room, but if you lose your writing partner, you’re in big trouble.”
Good point, he thought—but there was no way he intended to admit it out loud.
“Go easy on her, sweetie. Anybody can have a bad day.”
Another good point, but based on what he knew about the good doctor, he figured she’d survived more than her fair share of bad days. Ill-timed luck, he wondered, or the product of her own clumsiness?
He got his answer the minute his deck shoes hit the porch floor, for there sat Holly in the middle of a huge, foot-deep muddy puddle in the front yard. Yesterday’s rain had filled the rut carved into the lawn by a utility truck last week. One glance at the exasperated expression on her gorgeous face made him wish he’d found the time to fill in the hole.
He held out a hand. “Anything hurt?”
